


Escape from the Mad Scientist's Cat Farm

by Sexsuna



Series: Nyanmar Bestiary [6]
Category: Nyanworld, Original Work
Genre: Alien insemination, Anal Sex, Bestiality, Buggering assassins, Buggery, Catboys, Come Drinking, Crossdressing, Egg Laying, Fellatio, Fetish Clothing, Gay, Horror, Latex, M/M, Monsters, Multi, Murder, Other, Parallel Universes, Rape, Science Fiction, Violence, cocksucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:06:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22068247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexsuna/pseuds/Sexsuna
Summary: Hisaki has known no other life than that of the Creator's monstrous factory, where endless bestial things are carried out on a regular basis. It is only when he encounters Setsuna as one of the subjects of the Creator's experiments, that he discovers the worth of the world outside, and finally seeks to escape from the confines of that barbarous facility; though the Creator will not let anyone leave without at least trying to recover what he derangedly views as his playthings.
Series: Nyanmar Bestiary [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/160163
Kudos: 9





	Escape from the Mad Scientist's Cat Farm

One

Escape

**I**

Often, just as he woke up and the light shone in through the glass brick window, and there still lingered a sense of the dream of past night and the thoughts were prone to behave in mysterious and unconventional ways, Hisaki would wonder of the world outside. He couldn’t see much; the mosaic tiles of the glass-brick would obscure any detail, but there was colour: green with little distorted specks of red and blue and yellow. At times, the world outside became dominated by brown and red, and then by white; and then the green returned; this cycle repeated. Hisaki could not remember how many of the cycles had passed, as his past turned into a singular mess of memories without any chronology, but there were several, at least six or seven of them. Every morning at an hour unspecified, depending on the demands and chores assigned for the day, a box above the white-painted steel door would ring an alarm, so loud that no matter what stage of exhaustion one might find oneself in, one was sure to wake up.

All of the walls were pure white tile. There was a low two-shelf book-case below aforementioned window, upon which sat in a ceremonious cradle the Book of Order, which despite what seemed like importance from the name, was little more than a leaflet of twenty pages; compared even to the limited library with which Hisaki had become acquainted, it was hardly a notable volume. The other literature consisted of peculiar comic-books; something called a cooking book whose usefulness in a room without any cooking ware or appliances was questionable. Sometimes, Hisaki would browse through it, and though a lot of the text proved incomprehensible to him, as he had no sense of the terms and expressions used, the pictures would tease him and make his mouth water, and he wished for a chance to stuff his face with all those wondrous offerings of the world.

The world… but the world to him was but a tiny room two and a half by four metres, a prison cell (if he would have possessed any sense of what such was), with a tiny closet next to the narrow hard bed (whose interior was a barren cold steel desert with rusty coat hangers), and opposite this a washbasin with a mirror above it, where generously provided were make-up supplies; next to this in the direction of the steel door was a barren white toilet without a rim. Under the bed was a chest of sex toys he was expected to use, and with the urges bestowed upon him by nature, he frequently did.

Nevertheless, a certain feeling lingered, that this little part of the world which he knew was not all there was, and he had an appetite to see more. At night, when the world outside the window would be a black void, he’d dream up night skies filled with myriad little stars like the scattered eyes of a thousand sinister vengeful deities, yellow, red and green, glittering like the lights of a city he had never seen and knew of only because of brief mentions in books he had been instructed by.

The morning came and the alarm rang, and Hisaki was roused from sleep by that shrill obnoxious noise that always came bursting through his peaceful rest like sharpened knives. He sat up on the narrow bed, brushing aside the uncomfortable thin ragged blanket that always made him itch, perking his purple triangular ears up in the manner required to stop the ringing of the alarm.

It went silent. He was naked under the blanket. His body was lean and pale and, save his head, the big triangular ears and his lazily swaying tail, he had no hair at all. Most of the inhabitants of the facility were like him, except of course The Creator.

The Creator most often spoke via the intercom system in harsh, commanding tones, but Hisaki had seen him on quite a few occasions; at least once, the Creator had sex with him. He was in reality, despite his powerful, intimidating personality, a small, mean-eyed man with a face still smooth as though it could never grow a proper beard or moustache, and with developing bald-spots he could easily in the outside world be seen as half-a-man, mocked insolently by his peers not yet ravaged by the consequence of excessive virility.

A small message dropped into the reception bowl next to the make-up and the mirror; this was where initial assignments were explained. He got out of the bed, walked over to the table, and unfolded the little piece of paper. The things were distributed by way of pneumatic pipes. There was but little text on the note:

CLEANING DUTY, Corridor No. 21

A simple enough task, and if he was lucky, he would not be given much else today. This was the closest he would come to having a day to relax. He quickly did his make-up, drawing on purple eye-brows to match his hair, and then dedicated much effort to making his layered hair appear pleasantly voluminous with hair-spray and whatnot. He brushed the straight fringe, which hung just above his eyes, so that the disruption of sleep was no longer evident.

He walked to the closet and retrieved the components of his assigned uniform, then sat down on the bed and dressed. Slowly and painstakingly to make sure it was smooth, he dressed his legs in the black latex stockings, and then applied the right kind of lubricant to give it a shiny varnish. Last time he had worn it, he had been through the washer (basically just a big room with a lot of water jets they were sometimes made to walk through), and it had given his clothes a matte appearance.

After the stockings, he put on a pair of black gloves of the same material; a garter belt that was attached to the stockings, a pleated black mini-skirt and a buckled corset (black, buckles purple), fastened this and then snapped together a snugly-fitting black latex collar around his neck, and attached the four purple straps of this to the top of the high corset (which just barely covered his chest), so that it formed the pattern V; then did the same on the back (with some effort; luckily he was quite flexible).

He then put on his shoes, a pair of deep purple boots with high chunky heels, which reached to just below his knee, and zipped them up.

Done with the preparatory ritual, he got off the bed and walked towards the door of his room. There were rails that ran in grooves in the ceiling, and there hang a flexible wire, which he attached to the front of his soft collar, where there was a little ring through which the mechanism could be locked. Having done this, he pressed a green button next to the door which signalled to the system that he was ready for his duties.

The noise of air escaping from somewhere, and the door opened, heavy and thick, and the module that the wire was attached to in the ceiling began to move, beckoning him out into the corridor.

White horror; door after door set back, just like his, an endless row of windowless doors, in each one of them someone just like him. But he tried not to engage in such fruitless contemplation and followed obediently the automated transfer system.

It paused for a while down one of the corridors on his way to the destination, allowing him to gather a mop and bucket, which he filled with water from a tap in the small room and mixed up with some cleaning liquid. Carrying this, the journey continued until they reached the destination.

There was blood everywhere.

**II**

Though such a scene was nothing new to him, it nevertheless shocked him. It was almost part of daily duty (though it had been some weeks since last), but he had never quite gotten used to seeing it, since he knew the implications. Redundant subjects, servants like himself, had been... destroyed like diseased cattle... Blood had poured through one of the doors, and someone or something had been carried out, and blood had splattered onto the floor and the lower portion of the walls, and towards the end of the thick streak, a bloodied hand had left an imprint on the wall, as if with its owner’s last breath trying to escape from this white-painted concrete maze.

He put the bucket down and wetted the mop.

This was not one of the housing corridors. The doors here were further between each other, and he wasn’t sure what was behind them: he had never seen inside one of those rooms, but judging by the frequency with which blood seeped out around the doors and into the corridor, it could not be a pleasant sight.

The spill was cleaned in about an hour, by which time the bucket’s water was probably more blood than water. There were automatic cleaning systems installed; sprinklers could be started and drain out the spills, whatever they were. But the Creator liked to make his servants do things. It was just one of those things that Hisaki had come to think of as natural, as part of life.

Just as he placed the mop into the bucket (imagining that it was red paint and not blood he had just mopped up), there came a signal from one of the loudspeakers in the corridor, a deep reverberating alarm of the sort that blared forth when one was needed elsewhere despite already being on an assignment.

He let go of the mop and simultaneously the guide in the ceiling began to move, continuing down the hallway; down a flight of steep steel stairs, around a few corners, and into a corridor of greater width. A lamp next to one of the doorways towards the opposite end of the corridor—wide double-doors to accommodate larger loads—glowed red. As expected, the guide stopped right at this door, and he pushed the open button below the red light. Above the door, faintly readable black text read CHAMBER C-5. A buzz of approval, and the door opened hydraulically.

Inside, the room had its lights somewhat dimmed, and the Creator was standing at a computer console along the far wall. Though he would occasionally make use of equipment like this, Hisaki was convinced that the primary purpose of most of the activities at the facility were intended to satisfy his sexual eccentricities, rather than any sincere scientific endeavours. Had Hisaki known history, it might strike him a bit like the absurd and demented acts committed by Nazi doctors in secluded facilities on ‘sub-humans’, though naturally this knowledge was not something he owned.

The ceiling had fluorescent lighting tubes, whose strength was controlled by a computer. Along the wall on Hisaki’s right was a large door, like that to the main corridor, which was for a large goods lift from the basement, whose operations he had himself participated in on numerous past occasions. Much of the space in the room was barren, but there was seating along the same wall as the door, off to the left; along the left wall in the direction of the computer console’s line of displays and key sets was a line of phallic plastic protrusions rising from the floor like monstrous fungi of variable height.

“Good, good,” the Creator murmured where he stood at the computer, “it’s all coming together for the day’s focal act, isn’t it?” He then turned and looked at Hisaki. “Finally, you’re here. I need some assistance preparing the experiment. Come here.” The creator pressed a button, and the wire disconnected from his collar.

“I’ve done it as you like it, Hisaki,” he said, “I’ve gone days without a shower and with a lot of sweaty work. Lick my arse clean, the way you love to do it, you dirty brown-nosing little fucktoy.” It was surprising he bothered to remember Hisaki’s name—but maybe he liked it. It was he who had assigned it, as far as Hisaki knew. Either that or it was picked at random by a machine. The former seemed slightly preferable. Now, he pulled down his ugly, worn corduroy trousers, turning around and revealing his dark hairy cleft, like a steep shaded jungle-covered gorge. The pungent odour reached Hisaki’s nose, that sharp goatish smell of stale unwashed sweaty arse.

He spread it. It yawned open, the ravine.

Hisaki bent closer, opening his mouth, sticking out his tongue. The tongue hitting the coarse hairs. He saw the anus; the rounded red lips of the sphincter, with some waste left, like a mouth that had messily gulped down a chocolate cake. He let his tongue move over the dirty warm surfaces. It smelled awful, but mercifully, the taste was not very noticeable. He thought of other things as he did it; open vistas he had never seen, forests, mountains, cities.

“Put the tongue in,” Creator demanded.

Hisaki obliged. He pressed his tongue against the sphincter, the soft smooth lips of the anus, and the Creator seemed happy. There was a convulsion in the muscles of the neither region and before Hisaki had time to react, the Creator farted in his face, letting out a gust of hideously rancid gas.

Hisaki backed off and coughed.

When he turned his face towards the creator again, the latter had turned around and was facing him from above, looking down. “You weren’t prepared for that, were you? You little shit. You’re nothing. You’re not even a person. You’re just an object. A thing.”

He held his cock out from the split in his white coat. Long and thin, even when fully erect it could not hold itself up entirely, and flopped like a rubber dummy as the Creator swayed it in Hisaki’s face. “Open up,” he said.

Hisaki’s mouth fell open, and the Creator inserted the cock. Dirty and intentionally unwashed, Hisaki felt his tongue scrape loose the salty parmesan of accumulated smegma. Compared to the things he had to do, this wasn’t so bad; it rather tasted quite good. He gnawed some that was stuck off with his teeth, which spurred the Creator further. Almost nearing a spend he suddenly withdrew from the mouth, and holding his cock upwards while peering at the ceiling, he eventually let a warm stream of piss out.

It squirted into Hisaki’s face, on and under his clothes, down to the floor. He captured as much as he could with his mouth, but the flow was too great, and a lot ended up escaping.

“Don’t waste your reward,” the Creator said, laughing. Hisaki tried to swallow as much as possible.

The stream stopped.

“Thank you, Master.”

“That’s enough of that. Now, go prepare the subjects. They are in the ancillary rooms. I’ll go down the basement and get the cattle ready. Do you understand? The usual procedure. The specimen numbers are 2478 and 2479.” He pulled his trousers up and stuffed his cock back in.

Hisaki nodded. The Creator called the lift, which arrived, and had soon gone down into the tomb-like and labyrinthine bowels of the research compound. Hisaki had been down there on a few occasions, though he did not know the place all that well. There were strange stables and rooms for storing strange beasts down there... Uncomfortable memories wafted up from the lightless abyss. He shook his head, and resolved to deal with his assigned task.

Along one of the walls was a series of scarcely visible doors. They were not readily apparent to those that did not know they were there; a row of a total of five. However, Hisaki expected that only two were occupied, and opened door number one; the opening mechanism consisted of pressing an obscure button, which opened the cover to a depression on the door, which housed a conventional handle. He took hold of the handle, and opened the door.

The boy—like all of the ‘subjects’ or ‘specimens’ as the Creator called them—had ears like Hisaki. This one was nude, and this did not bode well for his future. His eyes rolled lifeless in their sockets: one of the “defective clones” the Creator seemed to take his time in expunging by cruel and sadistic means. Hisaki loosened the chain from the hook to which it was affixed and led the poor thing out of the storage room. The steps were shambling and now and then it seemed to start trying to walk in the direction of the nearest wall. The tail drooped towards the floor lethargically.

It was sad to see. Hisaki sighed to himself. Along the far wall was a railing with fittings on which to fasten the chains. He did a simple knot, and left it at that. The poor defective clone wouldn’t be able to make heads or tails of that, either way.

Then he went to the second door and opened it in the same way.

Specimen No. 2479, was much more healthy looking than 78. He was tall—taller than Hisaki by the height of half a head, at least—and was dressed; his long, voluminous green hair hung down to his hips, split into twin waterfalls with pink ribbons. He wore something like a latex swimsuit, white, with a frilly skirt open at the front, integral to the one-piece; long white elbow gloves and a pair of thigh-high white boots, both shiny. This meant that the Creator likely intended to keep him for further exploits in the future, unlike 78— _poor thing—_ who was unlikely to see another morning come.

Hisaki took the chain and tugged it, to get the specimen to walk.

“What are you doing?” it whined. “That hurts!”

It could talk, Hisaki thought. That was certainly something he didn’t see very often—he tried to remember if he had seen it at all. He had, but those cases were rather depressing. What little they managed to speak had always amounted to incoherent, unsound ramblings.

Hisaki tugged at the chain again.

“Stop it!” the specimen objected once again. “Please don’t do it like that.”

“You are but a specimen... you have no mind,” Hisaki paraphrased writings from the Book of Order. “You have nothing to say, you are void.”

“I’m not fucking _void_ ,” the impudent one said, “I can talk, can’t I? Do you never wonder about all the specimens here? Aren’t they all at least a bit similar to you, at least, more similar than that greasy man...”

“The Creator? But he made us as he wished us to be. We are created by him, imbued with life by his genius...”

“Hogwash,” came the reply, “utter bloody hogwash. That man is nothing but a third-rate reject from an autopsy room exam. His genius only let him complete that utter failure of a cloning machine—and look what it makes! These sad pastiches of ourselves! Yet—even so, they are us, can’t you see? Ears, and tail, and everything; the ‘Creator’, as you call him—mere buffoon—he has those ears and tails not. Have you ever seen the world outside? We come from elsewhere. We’re not made by him.” There was serious disdain in his voice. “That disgusting hack, he never made anything worthwhile in his life! He’s just exploiting a certain anomaly he happened to stumble upon for his own sick perverse desires... Twisted, earless beast...”

“But—”

“What is it that you don’t understand? He has the mental faculties of a haemorrhoid.”

Hisaki did not know what a haemorrhoid was, but it sounded _bloody_ , and was certainly not a thing which possessed a brain. Hisaki realised then that he frankly did not know what to say. Was this specimen telling him lies in an effort to deceive him, or was all that had been ingrained into his mind lies? There was a certain logic to that which had been with him shared; for had he not himself noticed how the teachings of the Creator were at times contradictory to what he himself requested? Was he not in reality nothing beyond a simple sadistic lust-murderer, rather than an esteemed scientist? He seemed certainly more keen on taking his time destroying faulty specimens in the most brutal ways that were, to him, enjoyable, than any true scientific pursuits.

“If we assume that what you say is true,” Hisaki said, finally, peering into the cold concrete floor to hide the embarrassment he felt at believing so whole-heartedly what he should have realised long ago was ridiculous myth, “then what? What do we do?”

“We can leave here,” the Specimen said, “there is a world outside, as I said. It’s not a particularly pleasant world from what we know of it, but it is better than in here, inside these sinister walls where echo only screams of anguish. It might be that we can find a way back to Nyanmar...” His voice held a tone of longing. He sighed, and his breath carried the scent of beautiful flower gardens. “My name is Setsuna. Do you have a name?”

“Hisaki.”

“Might be Nyanma.”

Hisaki did not know precisely what that was, but since the Specimen— _Setsuna_ —had spoken of a strange home world, and returning to Nyanmar, he assumed, quite rightly, that this was the name thereof. 

Hisaki thought for a while, and managed to come up with a plan by which they could—potentially, as long as the Creator’s knowledge of their attempt remained non-existent—manage an escape. “How able are you?” he asked Setsuna.

“I might fight reasonably, if I am not shackled.”

“There is a reasonable chance,” Hisaki then continued, “that we can achieve an escape, but you must play along for now, until this scene today ends. When it is done, I will be tasked with clean-up and take the beast down—this usually is the way, as the Creator”—Setsuna shook his head impatiently at this term—“will be so exhausted after his exploits and enjoyment, that he cannot be bothered to do it himself. I will also be tasked with locking up any specimen that has not suffered catastrophic failure. I think you understand that this is likely to be you, since you are a functioning specimen and aren’t entirely naked. What we will do, is that when we bring down the beast, I will take you along. Once we have access to the basement storage spaces, I have some rough idea of where the exit must be. This area has of course never been referred to as an exit to me, but I was strictly forbidden to enter it.”

Setsuna nodded in understanding.

The rattling of the lift mechanism revealed that the Creator was returning with one of the steeds from below, so Hisaki hurried and tied Setsuna to the railing along the wall as well. He offered no resistance; the best they could do was hope that the events awaiting them would be brief, and that they soon would get the chance to put their plan into action.

The Creator got off the lift, carrying a steel bucket filled to the brim with the yellow stringy ichor which 78 was to be swabbed with. He put the bucket down on the floor.

“Get the defective one wet, and put the other on the stand. I’m going to go get changed.”

Hisaki nodded obediently. As the Creator left, he took a brush on a long wooden pole, and dipped it in the repugnant, foul-smelling mucus. As he lifted the brush out of it, strands of the mucus clung to it. He pressed the brush against the defective boy’s behind, moving it up along his back. The boy began to laugh hysterically as he was bathed in the vile substance. Even when he got some on his grey hair and ears, and eventually on the face, he didn’t seem to mind the smell at all. Hisaki felt a strong sympathy for the defective boy; it wasn’t his fault that the Creator was such a shit scientist that he couldn’t succeed with these cloning experiments more often... and that boy was innocent; he was just like Hisaki, if a bit dimmer, but certainly he did not deserve to be abused for fun like this... No...

Hisaki put the brush into the bucket, then carried the bucket to the door and placed it outside in the corridor. This was important, as the strange cattle employed at this ‘Farm’ would be distracted if it sensed so much more of the liquid near it. Hisaki didn’t know quite what the liquid was, but it had been extracted from some glands near the breast of the animal, which beyond a certain age grew bloated and smelly. This liquid, when the animal sensed it, made it go into a sexual rampage toward anyone bearing the smell. He had seen it happen to a well-functioning boy he had known... _Yukata, why were you not more careful?_

The Creator returned, the door slamming shut behind him. He rubbed his hands together expectantly; he was completely naked now, and his cock was hard, flopping rigidly up and down with each step.

“Let’s get on with this!” he said.

Hisaki went over to Setsuna; he offered him a smile of reassurance (they could obviously not talk to each other with the Creator present) and led him over to one of the ‘Stands’. That was what the creator called the large plastic phalluses that protruded from the floor. Lubrication gel dispensers were installed along the wall, and he wetted one of the protrusions, and did the same to Setsuna’s hole. Setsuna looked reluctant and grimaced as he took the length in his arse, but there was nothing to do about that.

As Setsuna was down to the floor with the phallic protrusion inside him, Hisaki turned around, and found the Creator standing close by, watching them. He wanked his cock with one hairy hand, but didn’t say anything. Clearly, he viewed even Hisaki as an object or a lower animal, not a person.

“Open the gate,” he spat out between breaths, “open the gate to the animal cage, and let it out. I already loosened the rope.”

Hisaki walked over to the lift, his heels clicking against the floor. The lift doors stood open; in the back end of the lift, which was large, roughly four by five metres, was an enclosure by a steel railing, of which one section was movable and lockable. It was already unlocked, and Hisaki moved the gate aside. The great beast, brown and furry, snorted angrily, or worse, hornily, and then walked out with long premeditated steps. Its hooved feet were small in comparison to its enormous bulk, which was comparable to a yak. The belly was clear of fur, and in the field of black leathery skin that looked more reptilian than mammalian protruded rows of long slender nipples, leading down towards that enormous cock, similar to that of a horse. Each step the beast took, the penis moved from side to side, with a wet head covered in pinkish spots.

The whole thing was revolting.

And how it smelled!

The defective boy seemed to expect nothing. He was still giggling now and then from when Hisaki had applied the repulsive ointment to his body. When the big beast moved up close, snorted and sniffed his buttocks and legs with that big-horned furry head, it seemed to amuse him, not alarm him. He was pushed against the wall, his arms stretched out to greet it, but his motor function wasn’t really working, so they just gave way. It made Hisaki feel sad. Guilt, too, was present; he had smeared him with that, marked him for death, and even if he had no choice...

The big creature opened its long mouth, revealing plentiful large, rounded teeth, that looked like lines of eggs inserted into the jaw. The tongue flopped out, lapped up some of the sticky yellow goo from the boy’s buttocks, then the creature snorted and tried to mount, humping the air. The cock had grown even further from infusion of blood, and strange hook-like bristles stood out from its sides. The boy slipped and fell onto his knees, and in the same moment the beast found his arse, and pushed through. Thick, dark red blood flowed as that lance burrowed inside him, and he began to sob, though the sobbing was soon overtaken by the panting of the animal with each of its primitive, hulking thrusts.

Setsuna looked on with horror, but had little time left for that, before the Creator fluffed his erect cock in his face and forced it down his throat. There was something vulgar in his movements, something juvenile, childish, impossible to respect, and he wondered how he could have been under his spell for so long a time.

Setsuna gagged; the beast kept fucking, the poor defective boy’s abdomen becoming bruised; a few more impious digs of that massive phallus, and the thing came, snorted and pulled out, dragging with it a sizable portion of lower intestine. 2478 made no noises any more, he lay still, his body a collapsing tent after the muscles had given out. His eyes were open, but observing nothing; they were windows to an empty interior, an abandoned house where all the lights were off and all the furniture stolen, taken elsewhere to carrion-black pits.

The creature took a few morsels of flesh out of the poor sod’s back and ate some of the entrails that had fallen out; it seemed the beast was omnivorous, and not the placid cattle it mostly resembled.

The Creator was still fucking Setsuna’s face, but seemed near to a spend now after a brief glance at the bloody mess on the floor. He looked at Hisaki, standing nearby, and nodded in the direction of the animal. Hisaki walked up to it and shooed it in the direction of the enclosure in the lift.

The Creator’s face a rock-hard surface of convulsed muscles, tightly shut eyes and open mouth, he let out a primal moan as he ejaculated, shooting his evil, corrupting seed down Setsuna’s throat. Then his long, softening sausage slipped out with some drool along Setsuna’s chin.

“That was good,” he said. “That’s what your little mouths are made for, sucking cocks.” Then he tugged at Setsuna’s big furry ears, moving them back and forth, making Setsuna wince and whine, before he let them go with a laugh. “This makes me hungry,” he said, looking at the blood on the floor, “I’m going to go eat. Hisaki, clean this mess up, or you’ll regret it. Take the cattle down to the stables. You know the drill.”

“Yes, my master,” Hisaki replied and bowed. It was hard now to feign respect when he felt the exact opposite, but the Creator, at least, did not pick up on the doubt.

Naked, he left the room, probably to retreat to his private quarters at the centre of the facility. Hisaki had been on cleaning duty there, once; it was a tastefully decorated set of rooms, with a large garden in an atrium, with walls and flooring of warmly coloured wood and plentiful bookshelves around.

Hisaki rushed to Setsuna’s side, and aided the latter in easing his arse off the floor-mounted phallus. “Are you okay?” Hisaki asked.

“I’m fine,” Setsuna replied, “but... he isn’t.”

“Yes, we must leave, lest we face a similar fate, sooner or later. Come on; the time is now.” Hisaki helped Setsuna to his legs; after the anal attrition his footing was slightly unstable. “We’ll ride this down into the basement. We must be quick, or hope for the best; that he has a long dinner with a nap after it.”

Hisaki led Setsuna to the lift, pressed the button, and they descended. The pool of blood around the dead boy was still expanding on the concrete floor.

**III**

The basement was a vast subterranean world; right next to the lifts (there were several of them) were a few gates to stables. Obviously, since they were mounting an escape, Hisaki simply left the yak-like beast in the lift’s enclosure. In the cold air, from down winding concrete hallways, came sounds similar; snorts and wheezing breaths.

“Now, where do we go?” Setsuna asked and leaned affrighted against Hisaki, wrapping an arm around his arm. “You said something about a forbidden zone.”

“It’s straight ahead, here,” Hisaki replied. “Quite some distance. Are you well able to walk? We must be quick if we hope to succeed. If he finds us and traps us, he’ll torture and kill us, and there is no doubt that it will be in the worst way he can think of.”

Setsuna nodded, his long green hair swaying.

Then they began their journey. There was a long straight hallway, then a few corners in rapid succession, until they passed through a large portal. There were no signs announcing that this was the forbidden zone, though it was plainly obvious from the way in which the concrete floor disappeared and gave way to exposed wet dirt. The ceiling-mounted lamps grew fewer, their strength seemingly growing fainter in accordance with the general mood. The walls gradually became dirty and overgrown with strange weeds. Along the walls began to appear luminescent green plants with slender stems and odd bulb-like branches. Soon they arrived, after a gentle slope, to a large underground room; a vast chamber yawned before them, containing within it a small pond, along whose edges more of the glowing plants grew, and in the cavernous concrete roof grew yellow fungi from which dripped moisture. A lumbering creature moved beyond a large shrub along the far edge of the little pond; they wished not to become more personally acquainted with it, so hurried onwards. The creature seemed content to stay still over on the other side, thankfully.

From the pond flowed a stream, which they crossed on a small concrete bridge. Having crossed it, they became aware of a curious buzzing sound and something moving in close proximity.

They tried to hurry then, hoping to get away before whatever it was came any closer. Their hopes were however crushed, as emerged into the glow of the fungus of that malodorous nightmare basement the hideous shape of some unknown monstrous insect-beast. It walked upon fat segmented legs, glistening with some mucus in the sick green glow, and its body reminded vaguely of a fat millipede. Its two antennae at the front moved with evident irritation at having been disturbed, or whatever, and each step seemed full of malign intent. A beard of thin pointy tentacles hung from what must be its front, judging by the direction of its movement, and the body was red with yellow and white circular spots; the carapace’s underlying pattern made it look oddly weathered.

It moved towards them. Underneath its body, a long, thin organ swayed from side to side with each cumbrous step.

They began to try and run, but Setsuna stumbled.

The thing was over him in an instance, rubbing its angry prick over his back, trying to find the hole. Setsuna was kicking wildly and ineffectively, but Hisaki rushed to his aid, taking hold of the critter’s antennae. It angrily gave up its attempt to mount. Instead, it rushed onwards, Hisaki clinging to the front of the carapace until he slipped off it and onto the dirty ground. As he hit the ground, the skirt flipped over his back, and the monstrous critter, with its prick (or whatever it really was) rigid and pointed forwards, overtook him in an instant. The thing was strong, so it forced its way in without much resistance, causing quite a bit of pain.

This only got worse when big objects—eggs, he reasoned—began to squeeze into him from what was evidently an ovipositor. They travelled in sequence along the length, slid into his arse, and there exited. He wasn’t sure how many it put inside; too many, at least half a dozen. However, by the time it was done, it briskly departed the scene, moving back towards the pond. It stopped suddenly near the edge of the pond, and seemed to eat some of the glowing fungus, when out of the water suddenly emerged thick yellow tendrils, wrapping themselves around the critter, and carrying it into the pond; it emitted some shrill noises before it vanished below the surface. The water stirred uneasily but was soon quiet again.

“What the hell was that thing?” Setsuna exclaimed. They were quite some distance from the pond at least. It must have been a lot deeper than it appeared, to fit whatever organism it was that sucked down the bug.

Hisaki moaned and rubbed his bloated belly with his hand. “It filled me with its eggs...”

“Just wait, we can’t bother with that now. We must get out of here first. Into the light.”

Seeing no other choice, Hisaki nodded in agreement.

They continued their trip. The corridors wound onwards, until suddenly, they arrived at a large yawning opening ahead of them, through which was visible a distant faint glow. As they hurried (running as fast as Hisaki could in his present state) they came out into the subdued light of large underground garage. Facing its rear against a loading bay, a lorry was just about to depart (the driver was speaking to someone—assistant staff, probably, through an open gate). The doors to the wild outdoors were open, and the sun was shining through. They snuck along the loading dock platform, and were not noticed; they followed the wall up the ramp out of the underground space, and soon—oh, the world was so bright! Hisaki had never seen it in this way before—the sun above, and the open beneath it! The forest rim, grim and dark with its shadows, yet so verdant and inviting still—they headed in that direction. Towards the south was a cliff, and towards the east and west were open grassy fields. The forest was the only way to safety, far away from the repugnant Creator and his profane torture garden.

**IV**

They had walked for hours, and the sun had fallen below the horizon, when they had to stop. Hisaki felt the eggs inside of him swell; they had to come out forthwith, or they’d risk hatching inside of him, and he was not keen on that thought.

“Let’s stop,” he said to Setsuna, who at first kept walking, and then finally turned around.

“Why?”

“It’s the eggs. They have to come out. I can’t continue with them inside me.”

“Okay,” Setsuna said. He returned to Hisaki, surveying the vicinity. There was a large rotten pine that had fallen in some past storm, towards which he assisted Hisaki in walking. Hisaki leaned his back against it.

“Try to push them out,” Setsuna said. “They can’t have gone too far up your insides. It’ll be just like taking a shit.”

”They’re too big! I can’t get them out!”

“Relax, take a deep breath, and push, okay?”

Hisaki did so, and squeezed. Setsuna pushed on his belly to aid the release, then pushed Hisaki’s skirt up and revealed his cock, testes and arse. Eventually one of the eggs, white with light grey spots that looked like some kind of freckles, emerged into the light. Setsuna pushed on his belly, and the egg dropped out; the slot was soon filled by another that wanted out. The other eggs followed, except one, which seemed very reluctant to escape from Hisaki’s orifice.

“Try reaching for it...” Hisaki whined.

“I can almost see it in there, but...”

“Reach!”

So Setsuna pushed his hand into Hisaki’s anus, which was already dilated enough to receive it from the eggs, themselves having expanded a remarkable amount in the time since they were inserted. He was in past his elbow when he finally touched the egg. Luckily his hands were quite slender; he soon managed to move the egg inside of Hisaki; Hisaki pushed and the egg moved towards the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Just a little bit more!” Setsuna encouraged, and Hisaki made a last desperate squeeze. Setsuna’s hand came out of his arse with a sudden pop, clutching the egg.

“Maybe we can eat these,” he said, lifting it up to his face.

Hisaki panted, pulled his skirt back down and stood up. His arse was rather sore now. “I’m not sure we ought to eat them raw, though,” he said. “What if they are poisonous or something?”

“You’re right, I didn’t think of that.”

They left six eggs lying at the side of the overturned tree.

Then they continued. The night fell. The sky was full of light-blue green-tinged stars, the large trees made sinister silhouettes against the backdrop when Hisaki gazed upwards. The wet smell of the cold summer night, the moist leaves under their struggling high heels... They were tired and sore when they finally stopped to rest near a small stream, in whose steeply sloping banks they found a large dug-out hollow they nestled themselves into.

Their sleep was uneasy and they were woken up a number of times by the scurrying of various wild animals, and when morning came they had not gotten much rest.

“We must continue,” Setsuna said, “he will not let us leave without trying to capture us.”

“Where to?”

“Further. We’ll get somewhere sooner or later. I saw a map some time ago—that scumbag must have been careless. We should reach a town in a day or two, if we continue in this direction.” Setsuna sniffed the air expectantly.

Anon, they continued through the forest. At times, the trees grew very dense, so dense that at ground level, the forest floor was barren except for the scattered remains of pine needles in rotting brown hues, and at other times, they passed across clearings where tall grass grew.

One such clearing they found in the shadow of enormous electrical wires supported by hexagonal steel lattice-work towers, a high-voltage transmission line that cut through the forest in a perfectly straight line, as if by some knife of the gods. There was a winding road that followed it, wheel tracks on a rough alignment along the edge, presumably for maintenance purposes, and they followed this road for some distance, even though it did not take them in the direction they wished, for travel there was easier than returning into the thickets of the deciduous woods.

Following the road, the woods soon again were full of pines and firs, with an easier undergrowth, and here they turned back into the shadows. They stopped now and then where they saw edible berries and—one time—an apple tree. It was enough to keep going. Afternoon was somehow already approaching by the time they sighted the first signs of habitation since leaving the electric transmission line behind. It was a winding gravel path that cut through a part of the woods were the trees were scantier and not quite so large and thick, their canopies marred perhaps by some long forgotten storm. They stopped there, and looking up along the gravel road—which shewed evidence of vehicular use—towards the crest of a gently rising hill, they saw a red house with bright white-painted corners.

“We must go there,” Setsuna said. “Maybe we can find something useful, and rest some. I don’t know how much further I can walk. My feet ache.”

“Mine too,” Hisaki said. “I hope there’s something to eat. And drink.” He was very thirsty. They moved up towards the house. Tall grass grew around it, but it had been cut in the very immediate zone of the house quite recently, close cropped as a military man’s hair. A small gravel turning space existed before the entrance, which was by way of a small porch with a rather dramatic gambrel roof accessed via three stone steps.

The door they found unlocked. Inside was a hallway, and a lot of white-painted wooden surfaces, though the paint had often faded into a sort of matte grey blur. The general sense that the house conveyed was one of a museum piece. Everything seemed old and obsolete, which gave the place a touch of sad resignation; even the chairs were old and worn, and there were no modern appliances except a refrigerator and a freezer, both of which seemed as if they belonged in a museum. In the refrigerator, however, they did find edible things; some fruit and a piece of meat (which they ate raw).

When they had eaten, they explored the place, and upstairs, in a large room where was a television set and sofas arranged near bookcases, they sat down to rest. Even though in rooms ancillary there were actual beds, they preferred the sofa, because they imagined it would be an easier thing to get off should there be need for them to take to their heels and escape.

Setsuna brushed aside the front of his swimsuit-like outfit to reveal his erect cock. It pointed slightly downward from this position, towards his thigh, and looked unusually fat and tasty to Hisaki, like a rich sausage. “I’m antsy for a fuck,” Setsuna said, “come and suck it, and we can play. You know what our species is like? We fuck all the time. We’re like rabbits... give us the chance and we’ll fuck.”

Although Hisaki didn’t know this the way one might know something read in a book, he had _experienced_ it. The constant sexual urges...

He slipped off the sofa, crawled up between Setsuna’s boots; Setsuna loosened his prick a bit more until it stood more or less upright and stroked it with a lazy hand, the long slender fingers each crowned by a long green-varnished nail.

Setsuna moved his hand aside and Hisaki could take his tool in his mouth, warm and smooth he wetted it diligently before he began to suck it with loud smacking noises. Setsuna leaned his head back, and placed his hand behind Hisaki’s pretty purple hair-plume while he sucked, urging him on, just softly, not violently or coercively; a gentle, reassuring stroke.

”You’re certainly experienced in the art, aren’t you?” Setsuna said. “It’s good... just as befits our species! Endless cock-thirst! Now, come up here and ride it, facing me, so we can kiss while we do it! I can’t wait to put it in your lewd egg-hole!”

Hisaki let the cock out of his mouth, slivers of saliva glinting like silver in the pinkish afternoon light that filtered through the low-set upper-storey windows dripping from it, its small but clearly visible veins like a child’s painting; Hisaki stood and moved forward, placing a stockinged black shiny knee on each side of Setsuna’s thighs.

He reached back, found Setsuna’s cock, and steered it towards his target, easing himself onto it; easily, it slipped in with some friction slightly burning, but soon it was all white-glowing radiant pleasure, spreading throughout his body like some electric current; a jolt of lightning.

“Even though you took those eggs and my fist it still feels pretty tight!” Setsuna moaned and pressed Hisaki down further on the prick, until it was all the way in, plunged to the testes. Hisaki put his arms around Setsuna, their heads moved closer, and they kissed; their tongues intertwining like the strands of a rope. Setsuna’s hands were on his hips now, moving him up and down on the thing while they kept kissing sloppily, before they parted, both breathing heavily.

“Hnn!” Hisaki moaned loudly, “fill me with your seed!”

“Will...” Setsuna began, then gasped, “try my best!”

Setsuna pushed Hisaki over on the side then, keeping his inflated probe within the latter’s warm, wet anal sheath, until Hisaki lay with his back against the sofa and his legs up against Setsuna’s shoulders while he resumed the piston action; in and out of the precious hole, until with a whimper he twitched and spent within.

“There!” he said with pride as he pulled his thing out of Hisaki’s arse. “I did as you said! Are you pleased?”

Setsuna moved aside, and Hisaki let his feet fall back to the floor. He sat up, and leaned close to suck on Setsuna’s spent cock, still half-hard though gradually softening, and sucked it. It smelled of his arse; he was able to capture some semen still struggling to escape from the slit in the font.

“That tickles too much!” Setsuna protested and backed off, leaving Hisaki sucking on air for a moment.

Hisaki looked unsatisfied with the end.

“Now you need to get me off,” he said. He flipped up the front of the pleated shiny skirt, revealing his own erection, which he had resisted stroking while he was fucked. “Suck me.”

Setsuna got on the floor, on his knees, and took the font in his mouth readily and eagerly, as if to return in kind what he had been offered; Hisaki put a hand on that green-haired head and tickled the large ears playfully, much to Setsuna’s irritation, though he diligently sucked until Hisaki came in his mouth.

Having done this, Setsuna kept the seed, moving it around in his mouth as he crawled up over Hisaki’s thighs and, once he reached far up enough, kissed him; the frothy mix moving from mouth to mouth, until each swallowed a share of the load and the other’s saliva.

“Do you think it’d be fine if we were to sleep here? There’s beds and such...” Hisaki said thoughtlessly, while expecting he’d be reprimanded by the more savvy Setsuna. Next to the room they were in were two further rooms, each with its own spacious door, and each containing large, inviting double-wide beds, made to a fault, just pleading to be slept in. “Or do you think there’s a good chance that some kind of posse from the facility are after us?”

“I’d think you were in a better position to determine that than I, that latter point,” Setsuna replied, “but I think we’re somewhat safe for now. Or at least so I hope. It might be good for us to take a nap before we go on. But I don’t think we should stay too long. Just in case. We should set an alarm.” At that, he went in to a one of the rooms, and looked around. Hisaki got up and followed him, noting as he went that he was indeed feeling rather drowsy. Within the room, on a white bedside table, Setsuna was mashing buttons on an electric clock, with which he seemed reasonably familiar. His ears moved as he concentrated. Hisaki slipped down upon the bed, lying on his side with his head supported on the back of his hand, and watched the other work out how to do it right. Eventually it gave off an obnoxious alarm noise.

“Oh,” Setsuna said to himself.

Eventually he seemed content with what he had worked out, and put the thing back down (he had previously took it off the table). “That should work, now,” he added. “Scoot over. Unless you prefer to sleep at the edge of the bed? I don’t mind sleeping against the wall.”

“I’d prefer it on this side,” Hisaki said and yawned, rolling into a better position. “I’m used to sleeping in a very narrow bed, you see.”

“We’ll, it’s okay with me.” Setsuna got onto the bed and rather clumsily crawled over Hisaki and lay down closer to the wall. He put his arms around Hisaki from behind. “This is nice too.” Hisaki felt Setsuna’s warm breath against his large ears as the latter snuggled with the back of his head, smelling his voluminous silky-smooth hair.

That was the position in which sleep found them.

**V**

Hisaki woke up. It was dark outside. He looked at the clock—just past midnight. They had slept for only four hours, and the alarm had yet not sounded, but nevertheless, he suddenly felt himself remarkably wide-awake. He realised then he was listening intently for something, and that this probably was triggered by something he had heard. Perhaps his sleep had been shallow, marred by the half-expectancy of something happening. Setsuna stirred at his side, rolling in the direction of the bed, breathing softly, and just then, further away, beyond the immediate, he heard something again. It must have been something like that which first roused him from sleep, he reasoned; it was the clear metallic sound of something large and heavy bumping into a steel rubbish bin. He heard what sounded like a muffled snuffle followed by a deep vibrating growl, and was on his feet in an instant, walking up to the large window next to the bedside table.

Outside, it was dark except for the pool of yellow light which formed around a single street light set at the end of the gravel drive-way, fixed to an electricity- and telegraph pole. It took a while for him to regain his bearings of the surroundings beyond this from when he had looked down upon it in the light some hours before (and even then, his recollection was, he realised, much warped and prone to inaccuracies), and it was in the process of achieving this that he saw the movement. At first he didn’t notice it, his mind still adjusting to the scene, but then it moved again, and he focused closer. Though hard to make out in the limited light, he saw the outline of a long reptilian body, its back a bumpy swath that looked like a rugged wet cliff marred by a million years of aggressive erosion, its shadow clearly evident. A crocodilian shape closing in. Some strange equipment was fixed to it just below the front pair of legs, a black elastic band and something that looked like radio transponder equipment on the top. Then, it moved across the light pond and into the dark on the other side, and behind it, smaller in size, but still enormous, a good four, maybe five metres in length, came another two of the things, with the same kind of equipment fitted on their rugged rotund backs, their barrel-like, wood-textured midriffs bloated and sinister.

They moved in formation through the shadows, in the direction of the door. The large, leading one stopped and raised its hideous head up into the air as might a dog or rodent to sniff, it’s mouth opening and closing slowly, revealing as black silhouettes the dagger-like teeth that looked to be the length of Hisaki’s hands.

No, this would not do; they were forced into action. The Creator had sent his team of abominations after them, those strange, incomprehensible crocodiles—were they organic at all, or robotic? Who knew—and he turned around and leaned over the bed and shook Setsuna roughly until the latter regained some semblance of consciousness. Still dozy, however, he did not understand much of what was said until a minute had lapsed, and at this time, they heard from downstairs the loud sounds of wood splintering. The creatures had forced the door.

Setsuna was suddenly more alert, and took charge of the situation very deftly. Walking back out into the living room on the third floor, he looked around, and found, in the fireplace, half-buried in historic ash deposits, a solid fire iron, with sharp fork-like ends, and retrieved this before he returned to Hisaki and pulled him along into the living room, opened the door to a closet, and stuffed him inside, joining him. The large solid door of the closet offered some protection, or, at the very least, an illusory sense of protection and safety in what was otherwise a very dire situation. It was possible, Hisaki realised, that the things had orders to kill on sight to prevent their escape; either that, or they would be taken back to that barbaric institution of unjustifiable atrocities, those things which, for so long a time, had seemed like they were natural only because he had never known anything else. It had felt wrong, it had felt horrifying, to see those atrocities being committed, to wipe up the spatters of blood in the hideous rape chambers, to see the broken eared-ones like himself, those that had not yet been killed but had things done to them so bad that they could never recover. Their faces were frozen into affrighted convulsions that looked like insane grins, and from their eyes would at times tears flow, perhaps from brief moments of clarity that lapsed like foam in a bath.

They kept as quiet as possible, each breath let out and in slowly, despite the excited and fearful situation. They listened intently. Soon, some china falling to the floor and shattering in the kitchen was heard, echoing loud throughout the building, and the faint, but clearly audible rustling of the creatures resounded in response thereto. The kitchen table legs screeched like a banshee against the floor and fell over down stairs, unseen in the dark of the closet, where the only light was a thin line down the middle of the large thick doors; and then, slowly but surely, began the creatures’ arduous march up the two flights to the third floor from the kitchen. On their way noises echoed, as they must have tipped over a bureau that Hisaki recalled seeing on their way up; wood shattering echoed loud and clear. Soon they heard the monstrous things’ breathing as clear as day, and felt their revolting presence, sensed their wet, musky stink. They took a tour of the room as judged from the pattern of the footfalls, and then investigated the bedrooms, first one, then the other; in the second, they paused, surely noticing the irregularities where they had slept, noticing, perhaps, too, their scent. The things, smelling of stale water ponds filled with rotting algae—how good could their sense of smell be? A croaking sound, followed by a weird sneeze, and a bookcase tumbling to the floor. They were going to get noticed if the things tipped over the closet; they couldn’t just stay here—Hisaki stirred anxiously, and Setsuna laid a placating hand on his shoulder. They waited a few more seconds, before Setsuna moved slightly—very cautiously—and as they heard one of them emerge from the second bedroom, they readied themselves to storm out. Bracing their feet against the inner edge of the closet, they pushed—the door gave way quickly, the large, heavy doors flying open, catching the first crocodile out of the bedroom by surprise, making it recoil; Setsuna was ready when it rebounded in an attempt to straighten itself out, moving its powerful neck muscles, and he held the fire iron steady; Hisaki didn’t see it so well at first in the limited light of that room, but suddenly—as a window drape blew in a sudden gust of wind so as to let more light in from the lamp outside, the scene was briefly illuminated more clearly. The crocodile opened its jaws, and shut them; Setsuna thrust the iron upward, and the force of the jaw closing was such that the fireplace iron, of a very robust design, immediately penetrated the upper jaw bone. The sound of the skeleton cracking and giving way was hideous. Blood gushed from the rupture, in the limited light it was dark, almost black, dripping down on the floor in thick, heavy droplets.

Some weird, dying noises escaped from that bizarre critter’s lungs; now was the time, and Setsuna let go of the fireplace iron, leaving it lodged in the flesh, with darkness gushing around it, forming puddles on the floor that looked like spilled ink. It was still stuck in the jaw when the crocodile’s legs could no longer support it, and they bowed outward, and the heavy beast fell to the floor. The other crocodile, behind it, began to try to crawl over it. Now was the time—Setsuna, still with a firm grip of Hisaki’s hand, ran towards the other bedroom, picked up a long, thick cord—Hisaki wasn’t sure from what, some computer equipment, mayhap—and tied it around the leg of the bed, and then opened the window and threw it out.

There was no time to question the sensibility of that escape route; Setsuna let Hisaki crawl out first, and clinging to the thin, slippery thing, he managed to get down close enough to the ground that he could jump. Looking up, he saw Setsuna climb out of the window, and heard from beyond the yawning window’s white frame clashing against the red façade the deep sombre vibrato of that other crocodile. It was probably the closest thing to a roar it could muster.

Setsuna was almost in a position to jump when the thing burst through the wall around the window on the third floor. It seemed to have forgotten that it was not on the ground floor, either that or it did not care, for it threw itself out into the air, its stubby scaly armoured legs flailing pathetically as it flew, its tail trashing uselessly in the air, surrounded by debris, insulation flying from the wall torn open, splinters of wood and glass, and, most worryingly, the half of the bed to whose leg the cord had been tied. The cord began to fall. Setsuna fell; Hisaki acted quickly. Luckily, the crocodile would not land near them, for the speed at which it had rammed the wall was such that it was to land several meters clear of the building. Hisaki stood ready below, and Setsuna fell into his arms. He fell too, but it cushioned Setsuna’s fall. Both were quickly on their legs again, without a word, and rushing towards the edge of the forest, Setsuna taking the lead again, with his superior navigational skill which assured they would keep heading in the appropriate direction.

Looking back from the safety of thickets, they saw the large crocodile, which could not enter, round the corner of the house and find the dead body of its fallen comrade sprawled in the grass lifeless and bloody. They did not stay put to watch it any longer. No doubt it would be distraught by the sight—and report back of the Creator what had happened. Perhaps it would continue its hunt—or not.

They continued. The woods were dark and wet, and surprisingly cold. The leaves and branches now and then scraped against them as they made their way. An owl whined somewhere, and another bird suddenly lifted off a branch, scrambling into the early morning sky. They came to an outcropping of rock, where the trees were sparse, and ahead of them a vista opened up, a vast panorama of a flat valley whose steep mountainous sides were carved and smoothed by glaciers some twelve thousand years past—a wide valley like a painting whose frame was a fond of forests, a background of farms, and in the middle, where the metalled expanse of highways devoid of traffic save the occasional light of a car met, a town, radiant lights brilliantly shining as some distant star; mindless artifice, such as a lamp attracting flies.

“Is that where we are going?”

Setsuna shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose. Maybe the Creator won’t attack in sight—” he said and paused. “In town, I mean. There’s people there. They look like us, a bit, but they are weird. Some of them are different, hairy, muscular things, like the Creator, with dicks like us, and others have big chests and typically shave their bodies. It’s really weird. They don’t have dicks. They have a hole where the dick would go where the other ones put their cocks, like a slot. Some of them even like it more than their arses. Have you ever seen the like?”

Hisaki shook his head. “Only the Creator.” He knew that the Creator was different from him, for he had no ears, and his body’s shape was slightly different, thicker, more robust, and covered in hair.

They headed on down into the valley, following a steeply inclined path, now and then clinging to tussocks of wet grass where rain had caused some landslides, making the soil hard to get a footing on. The night still clung to the world when they hit the first sign of habitation, a forlorn-looking barn at the end of a muddy road, and here they halted, and climbed onto the hayloft and fell asleep quickly. Their last attempt to sleep had been interrupted early, and this time, they both finally succumbed to their exhaustion.

**VI**

“What the fuck am I seeing?” a coarse, deep voice boomed and roused Hisaki from his sleep. Light filtered in through the sparsely set planks of the red barn, and even more light entered the space through the wide-open barn doors, and down on the gravel ground below the hayloft, next to a rusty red tractor, stood a man in a flannel shirt and blue worn jeans with a straw hat on his head, tilted slightly to one side. “You’re some of those fucking cat-whore things!” His voice was full of disgust. “Dressed like whores! Get out of my fucking barn you beasts before I go get my rifle!”

Setsuna was already up and heading down the ladder, and Hisaki followed him, without saying a word to the man. They left the barn, and headed out into the midday light.

“And don’t come back!” the man shouted behind them.

Hisaki was surprised at the man’s evident anger and loathing for them. It was weird, and the emotion seemed unwarranted, unless he had some personal experience with them, and extrapolated this disagreement onto everyone like them. It was pointless to wonder, though, what sort of psychopathology was responsible for the man’s behaviour; he was behind them now, as forgotten and behind the times as the Creator himself, a diseased rampart of the past one wished more than anything to forget as soon as possible, whose unequalled barbarity and primitiveness was beyond comprehension.

They followed the track that passed for an access road until they came up to a wide, paved road, empty of traffic, whose dotted white centre marking stretched towards the horizon as straight as if a ruler had been laid out over a map and the road built according to this line, ignoring any and all geological formations—it passed through a sheer rock cutting at one point, blasted out of a solid granite rise that emerged through the alluvial topsoil as the outcroppings of ancient ruins or buried bones uncovered by some freak storm. Their feet ached when they saw the first hints of habitation ahead, roofs outlined against the greenery in the distance. They passed a small, squat house on the left of the road with a run-down car parked on a grassy driveway, and soon, there were more like it; they had reached the town.

The whole place was a sad, rural settlement of small houses and squat three-storey flat blocks nestled in what must have been a swamp at some point in the past. Soon more roads intersecting the main highway appeared, a strict grid of pavements.

A handful of vehicles moved about on the streets. Big, shiny and noisy metal casings with wheels. Hisaki had never seen such in life before, not driving anyway. He remembered lorries with deliveries he had been made to unpack, but seeing them slowly back up towards the loading dock was quite another thing compared to these wild beasts, which rushed down the roads at absurd speeds, their wheels noisily roaring, engines sputtering.

In what seemed to be the town centre, near a larger office building that towered above the rest, adjoined by a tall belfry, with stern grey polished stone façade and a sign that declared it the City Hall in gold lettering, they saw an open restaurant. A few cars were parked along the street, but otherwise no movement was seen, except the wind tugging at the trees in the small park that stood on a square surrounded by a paved frame of roads.

“I’m hungry,” Hisaki said, as they approached the restaurant door. Setsuna must have felt the same, for his response was an approving nod, and they hurried ahead and into the establishment, the wood-frame glass door giving way, the entrance clock ringing. An old man sat at a table reading a newspaper while a lean woman poured tar-black coffee in a cup at his table; at another table, at a corner near the windows, sat a man eating soggy eggs and pieces of burned-looking bread for breakfast.

The woman who had poured the coffee left the table of the newspaper-reading man and disappeared through a swing door into the kitchen.

“We should be fast,” Setsuna said, “and pick something up. Food. Before any staff sees us.”

Hisaki looked around, searching for a table where someone had left something which staff had not taken away. He found—conveniently close by—a plate with a meat sandwich upon it, large and full, which someone had left with barely a bite in. Hisaki took a few slow steps—no one seemed to mind him, things like him must be somewhat frequent visitors, he thought—and took the sandwich off the table. Turning back towards the door, he saw that Setsuna had found something else to seize upon, and was now returning towards the door as well.

They went back outside, and sat down right around the corner of the building, where there was a narrow alleyway. Famished, they quickly finished the food they had taken, but before they had the time to get up, a sinister shadow blocked out the sun street-side.

Hisaki looked up. It was a man, a muscular but simultaneously obese man, his shoulders wide and arms thick as Hisaki’s thighs.

“Well, well,” he said, “what do we have here?” He wore a red apron over his strict dress. Some specks of flour clung to it. “I saw you. What you did. Thieves!”

“What do you expect us to do? We don’t have any money,” Setsuna said without hesitation. “And we needed food.”

“He who can’t pay, can’t eat,” the man quoted pompously from the barren pages of his memory and leaned back as if struggling to contain some dim-witted laugh. “You get it? If you can’t pay, you can’t eat, that simple. I’d rather throw food in the rubbish than hand it off to bums who can’t pay. Especially if it’s some of you fucking cat people.” He spat with disgust onto the sidewalk beside them to accentuate his point.

”Luckily,” the man went on, not caring the slightest for what anyone else might have to say, “I know how to deal with your sort. I know what your only talent is, what your only worth is. Like in that brothel on the other side of town.” A vicious smirk convulsed his face as might a cataclysmic earthquake ravage a landscape. “You’ll work in the restaurant for the rest of the day. And then...” He paused dramatically, and the wicked smile grew even wider.

“Work is a sacred duty,” he went on, “without it—we’d have chaos and anarchy. What would the world be like if we did not toil endlessly every waking hour? We’d be alone with our thoughts! And that is the worst fate of all! Now, come here you freeloading cunts, and get back in the shop. You’ll be serving the customers. I can give the others some time off. Have to pay them more on weekends, you see.” Apparently he was also the owner of the sordid establishment. “Get up.”

Hisaki stood up and nodded with a pout. He wanted time to consider the options, and menial tasks during the day would offer such. It didn’t really matter. Setsuna seemed to have come to a similar conclusion—or he was just tagging along for a while—as he stood up obediently.

“Follow me in, here,” said the chef, and they went further in along the alleyway until they reached the service entrance around the back, where they entered.

**VII**

For the day they spent most of their time waiting tables or cleaning up. The number of people was quite low and easily manageable, even if the regular staff had been dismissed, and the most common tasks were exceedingly simple, for which reason the day lapsed without further issues. A few bold patrons at the establishment, dissecting with their gazes, felt themselves so daring as to in passing cop a feel of their buttocks or stroke their tails, curiously well-adjusted to such things from how it seemed, regarding them as an amusing fact rather than a frightening or unsettling curiosity, as Hisaki expected from them, seeing as they did not possess ears of the sort on the top of their heads, nor tails; soft and pleasant though the vividly coloured fur was.

It was late when an unexpected guest turned up. A fat, eccentrically dressed and pompous-looking man walked plainly into the establishment as though filled only by thoughts of his own magnificence, and sat down laboriously at a table; he was waited by Hisaki; the response as he saw Hisaki’s ears, peculiar dress and tail was that his face flushed red as he gave his orders. When Hisaki took them to the chef, the latter was visibly worried and concerned, filled with a sudden stress. “That,” he told them both in the kitchen while preparing the order, “is the mayor of the town. I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side. You two better not do something rash, don’t fuck this up.” His face seemed at once to have aged many a year, and worse for wear his eyes looked sunken, his aspect filled with wrinkles of weariness one had never anticipated previously.

It was a big order, and Hisaki and Setsuna both were required to carry it to his table.

When they were done, the Mayor spoke.

“Sit down,” he said, moving a spoonful of some soup he had ordered as appetiser into his mouth, pausing to swallow. “I won’t bite. Don’t worry. Have a seat with me. It’s all right if I say so.”

So they each pulled out a chair and sat down. The Chef was looking at them from the kitchen with a worried mien.

“I haven’t seen you at the _Lusty Kitten_ ,” the mayor said, “do you work there?”

“The what?” Setsuna inquired.

“Never mind that, then,” the mayor went on. “If you did, you would know.”

“Are there others like us, there, you mean?”

The mayor nodded, downing more soup. “You’re coming from _his_ place, right?”

“I don’t know what place that is,” Setsuna replied again.

“That weird complex in the woods. That’s usually where you come from. Ears and tails like cats. Androgynous faces—big meaty cocks, though, and your hair which looks as dyed though it is plainly not. He’s got some weird experiments going on up there. Got a few screws loose, that one. Don’t worry. I won’t be sending you back there or anything.”

“You know the Creator?”

The mayor laughed. “So that’s what he answers to now? Well, I grant you as much, his ego is the size of the moon; always was. Fancies himself a _pioneering scientist_ , the gall on that one! He’s a failure. Twenty three years ago he submitted an article to _Nature_ about cloning, but it was rejected in the peer review process. He was irate. Bought this old abandoned military facility, you see, and has been holed up there like a hermit ever since. Everyone knows he’s never been quite right in the head, I dare say. Some forget he’s even up there nowadays. I know he’s up to weird things best forgotten. But what can you do? Maybe it’s illegal, technically, but there’s no way to prove that. He’s got connections, too. Pharmaceutical companies—not really sure what for, but they are awfully keen on exchange with the bastard.

“But it’s been quite some time since last we had any refugees escape from there. Some have told me bits and pieces of what goes on up there, so I know a little. I won’t be reporting you. But how come you’re working here?”

“We were hungry when we came, so went in and fetched some leftovers at an empty table. The chef here was upset and told us we had to work for him.” Hisaki was excited the way Setsuna came off as so remarkably cunning when the situation warranted.

“Not any more,” said the mayor. He looked to the chef, cleaning dishes in the kitchen now by his lonesome, face averted but ears undoubtedly perked (insofar as they were able) with discourteous interest. “Hey, what do you want for their debt?”

“Fifty,” he called back.

“You get ten, Kenneth, they can’t have eaten that much,” the mayor retorted. The chef didn’t say anything in response, but he had become visibly sullen. “You two are coming with me home to my place, after I’m done eating. Would you like some too? You can have a bit.” There were plates about, so Hisaki and Setsuna took one each and, after the mayor went off to the counter and picked up some utensils, they enjoyed a hearty warm meal. By the time they had finished, they felt quite full.

Two

The Mayor

**I**

A black iron fence surrounded the expansive premises of the mayor’s mansion; it towered, three storeys tall, at the end of a gently sloping stone-laid path, which led to a small stair up to the wide rustic double-doors. The building was old and worn, and had probably been the seat of some peasant potentate when it had been built, a house as befits a corrupt, landowning sack of manure. Now, it was the eccentric mayor’s house, its gravel driveway neatly lined with tall respectable poplars, somewhat off from the walkway access. A shed was seen in one corner of the garden, in the shadow of a fat sprawling oak; there was a small greenhouse to the side of the main building, wherein grew tomatoes and unknown other plants in green profusion; and the house itself, with its stern, grey stone façade, with its ominous gothic windows, stood like a churchly nightmare vision. The mayor reached into one of his pockets and fished out a key as they approached the door, Hisaki and Setsuna still cautious as to where this was all going. He fetched it, and taking the few steps up to the door with remarkable ease, he put it in the slot like a cock in an arse.

“Come on in!” the mayor said, turning to them as they too stepped up the three steps to the landing before the door, heels clicking against the rugged stone.

The mayor took off his shoes, and looked into the yawning hallway beyond, where things were much more modern than the exterior would indicate. Reasonable plaster walls with warm soft orange wallpaper and large, gold-framed paintings hung at intervals, and sleek wooden flooring, all seemed much more inviting than one could have imagined from the outside.

The mayor called for someone ahead with a barking voice as Hisaki and Setsuna reluctantly paused just within the door. Soon came into view an aged man, a servant, it seemed, from his butleresque get-up; that ugly black suit with a tie, needlessly formal, with a polite expression. “This,” he began, “is my cook and general servant slash butler Michael.” The man nodded. Behind him slid into view another character; this one much more notable for his uncanny similarity to themselves—on his head he had two large, triangular fuzzy ears and hair in a striking plumage like a light yellow fountain, a golden centrepiece of a distant market square over which hovered the dreamed haze of strong, sweet-smelling incense. His outfit, while not like theirs, was nevertheless verily a striking affair as well; white-trimmed pink fetish-maid outfit of shiny PVC; its skirt was short and pleated and revealed much of the legs, even the garters reaching down and connecting to the white thigh-high nylon stockings and the pink pleather boots with chunky heels much like their own. He nodded quietly and respectfully, gritting his teeth as he smiled, his dark pink lips glinting with glossiness.

“This,” the mayor continued, “is Hikari. He’s the chef’s assistant and general maid of the house.” The mayor gave a satisfied leer as if to hint, without saying anything, to the obvious sexual nature of their relationship. “I have some city administration to attend to, so, Hikari,” he turned to the yellow-haired cat-boy, “you take care of our new visitors, will you?”

Hikari nodded again. His hair had a single, large, teased bunch off to one side; on the other, the hair mostly flowed freely; it was long, though just how long it was could not be deducted when it was done up in this fashion; such thoughts occupied Hisaki’s mind when suddenly he felt that teasing, tickling sensation perturb his flesh-lance, and looking down he saw that beautiful plumage shift as might a palm tree’s leaves and branches in the breeze of an approaching hurricane. His skill with the lips and tongue was truly remarkable. Hisaki felt Setsuna’s hip strike his own as he moved closer, and the pretty boy thereafter took turns sucking one cock and then the other after pulling Setsuna’s prick out of the bulging maillot-crotch.

The butler had left, not staying for the view, and eventually Hisaki spent. The boy sucked it up eagerly and swallowed as might the famished, and thereafter reallocated his energies to pleasing Setsuna, and when he too spent, he got up off the floor.

Hikari blushed. “I’m sorry, if that was an inappropriate greeting.” Then he gave a nervous smile. “But it was the best thing I could think of. It is not often I meet people like you... _like me_...” 

”It seems quite normal to me,” Hisaki interjected with an apologetic tone, “but what do I know? I didn’t grow up under... normal conditions.”

Setsuna looked at him with a smile, then fell to his knees and pulled up the front and apron of the new boy’s outfit, and found his hidden half-erect cock, encasing it abruptly within his mouth in order to return the favour. Hikari was surprised, but seemed to enjoy the premise. Not satisfied to wait and watch idly, Hisaki strutted away, deeper into the house, both to find an unspent cock to suck and to explore the premises. There was a lavish living room that yawned like a massive limestone cavern, black leather sofas set in a horse-shoe facing a television set of unprecedented dimensions; there was a door in the distance to an indoor pool as well. He could see another door, to the left of the last, which had a sign on it declaring the kitchen—and presumably, beyond that, the dining room. Hisaki walked in through this door; the kitchen was a white tile affair, which calmed him some; soothing in its reminiscence of the Creator’s farm, where he had spent so much time until recently. Hisaki found the cook and servant leaning over the stainless sink, preliminarily washing some dishes before they were put into the dishwasher. Occupied with his monotone duties and hearing muffled by the sounds of the running water, he did not notice Hisaki entering, though he might have heard something when Hisaki fell to his knees. Even so, when Hisaki reached in between his legs, he twitched affrightedly—clearly he wasn’t used to participating in the debaucheries in the house—but he seemed to find it agreeable, for he turned around, brandishing his bulging trousers for Hisaki to see. A very formidable prick it was indeed, judging by that very bulge, and Hisaki massaged its length through the black soft textile before he undid the button and pulled down the zipper—black underwear, he pulled that down quickly too.

The thing did not disappoint; thick and large and wrinkly it stood with royal stateliness, engorged to the point of reddish hue, with thick purple veins. Hisaki took it out of its nest, and licked the shaft from the bottom up, feeling against his lips the coarse old hairs. The foreskin was long and drooped down at the tip; Hisaki pulled it back and revealed the warm, slightly irritated glans and put his lips to it. The manservant moaned, and he took it further in, spinning his tongue around the generous length; when wet enough he fucked his throat on it until he gagged slightly, at which point he let it slowly slip out while he sucked on it; when it was out he let it caress the outside of his cheek like a cherished lover, and looked up at its owner. “Do you want to put it in my butt?” he asked, trying to form a lewd expression.

The man seemed to blush, but smiled in the affirmative, and Hisaki let go of his penis, and repositioned himself with his rear to the man, and flicked up his skirt. He shoved two of his gloved fingers into his eager hole and opened it invitingly. “Just go ahead, push it in dry, just with my spittle,” he said. “I like when it stings...” His cock twitched as he spoke, and the man moved closer and pushed up against the hole and Hisaki’s fingers, which he withdrew to let the dick in. The man pushed cautiously, and Hisaki arched his back to assist, and soon the cock slipped in, centimetre by centimetre, until Hisaki felt the warm sack slap against his perineum. A sliver of drool leaked out the corner of his mouth, and the man began to fuck, thrusting his lance with welcomed energy.

When he had fucked for a while, he reached for Hisaki’s cock and frigged it in tune with the thrusts. The cook had him skewered on his cock for a good twenty minutes before he came inside, and pulled out, spilling some seed, which slowly ran down the back of Hisaki’s balls.

Hisaki turned around, panting, and lying on the floor he frigged himself until he promptly came, the semen flowing down from the crater slit across his wank-hand and onto the floor. He gathered most of it with his finger—the floors were remarkably clean anyhow—and licked it up, before he stood up. The chef was finishing up the last of the dishes, perhaps unsure that what he had done had been an appropriate thing to do. Hisaki, who was taller than him by some, leaned onto the man from behind and put his arms around his midriff and whispered in his ear. “You can come and fuck me any time with that big tool of yours…,” before he slowly walked away without looking back.

**II**

The rituals at the mayor’s mansion soon became familiar to them. In the mornings, they would take turns sucking the mayor off—despite his corpulence and hearty eating, his cock was almost as large as the cook’s, and perhaps it was the high blood pressure that made it stand all the time, or he had a remarkable libido. Six, seven times a day he liked to do it, and, being what they were, that suited them just fine. When no one else was in the mood, they’d fuck each other; sometimes Hikari would join, but there was a growing rift between them. The old cook would occasionally come to Hisaki and ask for a shag—he’d fuck no one else, and Hisaki found it cute, the way he seemed to have a _thing_ for him in particular.

They had been there for five days when Hisaki came upon the mayor talking on the telephone, in a voice clearly annoyed. “—listen, I’ve told you, I don’t know why you keep asking, I haven’t seen any that haven’t been around before, and you were all fine with those, weren’t you?” A pause. “Yeah, so why do you keep ranting about this?” He turned on his office chair and looked out of the window where the night was eating what remained of the rotting day, listening without any real engagement, before he spoke anew. “Well, I’ll certainly give you a call if any such as you have described appear.” Then he put the receiver of the old, white plastic telephone down, and turned towards Hisaki.

“I saw you watching,” he said, “and as you can probably guess, it was the man on the hill, that nutjob. He was asking for two cat-eared escapees, one with purple and one with green hair. Of course, I said I knew nothing. He’s a paranoid freak though, and kept trying to pry information out of me. But eventually he shut up.”

“Will he be persistent?”

“No, I don’t think so. He cannot well leave the place up there himself without risks, so he won’t do that. Do you want to suck?”

The tone remained positive, so Hisaki got on his knees and crawled up to the mayor’s lap, and pulled down the zipper and dug out the cock (the mayor never wore underwear) and sucked the half-hard (a state which it seemed to possess almost always) thing to a full stand.

In this manner, life continued. It was a blissful intermission and relief from the horrors of the facility, and the terrifying escape therefrom. But as all heavenly attractions, enjoyment and beauty are temporary; and so it was that the pleasantries were interrupted in the most surprising way. It was a day like many others; the Mayor was about to ready himself to go to work, Setsuna was off somewhere, and Hikari was in the kitchen where he was taking the clean dishes out of the washer after breakfast; and Hisaki himself was riding the cook’s cock in the living room sofa while a bland television serial flashed in the room, and there came from the door a ring.

Hisaki heard the mayor scramble down the stairs. He slipped off the cock he had ridden to see to the door himself as well, leaving the cook alone with a cockstand.

He found the mayor opening the door cautiously, while Setsuna emerged from the utility room adjacent; thereat he hesitated and decided to observe from there. It was not unthinkable that the Creator would try something, after all; in fact, the way things had been so blissfully quiet was to no uncertain degree profoundly disquieting.

It was hard to see what exactly happened. It happened quickly, and the body of the mayor filled the door quite fully. What was clear from the very start was that someone stood outside the door—that went without saying—and within seconds the Mayor was falling to his knees quite dramatically, from his throat issuing forth inarticulate noises of dread, irritation and warning. Hisaki’s ears perked up attentively at the whole ordeal as he realised something was wrong. He searched for Setsuna, and found him standing to the side, hiding in the shadow of the dark utility room, looking towards the door, waiting to see what danger it was, and how he might respond. Hisaki was the same way, backing off to the side, so that he could not quickly be seen from where he was, hiding mostly behind a low half-wall that lay within the living room.

Stepping up on the Mayor’s subdued massive body that, climbing it like some might climb with pride a challenging mountain peak, seemed like an enormous beached whale, were the shapes of two cat-eared saboteurs, donning black, sweeping capes, each with an angry, superior gaze and ears perked, scanning for any noises. There was no doubt that they were out to catch and bring the escapees both back to the facility.

What would he do, though? The thought was interrupted when he saw them drag Setsuna down to the floor, pushing their shiny capes, black on the outside, red on the inside, aside from their fronts, their cockstands peeking out through zipped up openings in snug shorts angrily engorged; one of the intruders had light brown hair, teased up in the back behind a headband; the other’s hair was pitch-black and hung flat and long, they were trying to pull aside the bottom of Setsuna’s outfit. Hisaki, worried, got up and started to run for the stairs. He heard someone shout as he ran, heart-rate quickly picking up, up the stairs, two-three steps at a time, and at the second storey, down the corridor, into one of the bedrooms, hoping they hadn’t seen into which he had entered, and down under the bed in a single swoop, and like a cat he flatted himself out and hid in the shadows thereunder.

Would they be able to see him, sense him? It was quite likely, for his hearing was quite acute, and for them it must be the same. Perhaps they could make out his breaths. He heard footfalls in the stairs, coming with long strides down the corridor, but he was saved in the nick of time by the noise of construction machinery which started up on a nearby premise, some distance from the house but loud enough that it drowned out anything they might hear of his presence. They looked cursory through the rooms, but finding a window open in the bedroom—the very same where he lay under the bed—assumed he had escaped into the wild. He heard the footfalls trail away, and as the noise of distant construction stopped, he heard the muffled shouts and whine as they did their sinister deeds to Setsuna downstairs. But he could not leave it at that, could he? He could not stand idly by while these transgressions occurred; no, action had to be taken, no matter how futile. He had been weak and cowardly to run, so he crawled out from under the bed, and with slow and cautious steps he snuck towards the stairs; the interlopers, busy with their prey, noticed nothing as he descended and headed towards the hallway where on the carpet they were having their fun. One had his cock down Setsuna’s throat, the other was at the back, thrusting into the arse with his own buttocks readily apparent through his tight shiny black shorts, and they seemed so consumed by the warped passion that they did not notice him even as he stepped into their sight. Now was the time for surprise; he pounced on the one fucking, who was closest, and pushed him down on the floor.

They were quite surprised, but recovered quickly, and Hisaki had no chance to actually take them on. They subdued Setsuna with an injection, as they had done to the mayor, and were upon Hisaki before he had time to form a coherent strategy. Once again, he tried to run, but he had only reached the living room when they were both upon him—they threw him down on the green leather, but his desperate struggles were no match for their skill and deftness; squeezing and shoving, he soon had no energy for even a token struggle, and the black-haired one gave him a slap across the face.

“You little shit!” he exclaimed, “did you think you could get away from us? Do you think we’re amateurs? We’ve done this before, you know. You’re not the first ones to escape, and the only ones to ever succeed are the ones we don’t care to bother with, be they wasted, spent or unsatisfactory. You’re property of the Creator, and nothing will change that.” Smirking condescendingly, he looked down on Hisaki. “Now, suck my cock. It has been in the arse of your friend, but I am sure that’s just the kind of thing that gets you off.” Whereat followed an insincere laugh, wherein the light-brown-haired one joined for accompaniment, the sound of which was a cross between the mutterings of hyenas and horny donkeys.

Thoroughly beaten, he saw no reason to risk further needless violence, so closed his lips around the tip of the cock, breathing in the scent of arse viciously prodded, but not minding it whatsoever. At his rear, his skirt was flipped up over his back and a saliva-slicked length suddenly pushed its way like a hungry worm into an apple, harshly and painfully; when the thing was lodged firmly inside, the responsible party slapped him hard across his buttocks and laughed. “Take that, you filthy whore!” it said loudly, maniacally, and the hands of the two assailants came together in joyous achievement. Hisaki kept sucking as good as he could while he was roughly penetrated, sensing both the taste of anal juices and blood on the cock he sucked, which had monstrously violated Setsuna’s rear just prior; the questionable coating was in fact still quite warm.

The one fucking his bottom soon approached orgasm, and let out some raucous laughter which became a primitive grunt and then turned into a guttural sentence. “You stupid bitch-hole!” Then more laughs, and a final, long thrust, whereafter he harshly and violently retracted his slowly deflating cock with a clearly audible, and painful, plop from Hisaki’s arse. Hisaki looked up at them, but they did not look at him; instead their gazes met, and they seemed to ponder some vast insurmountable problem like dedicated scientists for a few minutes, until a noise from the ground floor (a distant creak which Hisaki heard too) caught their attention and made their ears perk up attentively. In silence, one of them snuck towards the stairs out of the bedroom, taking cautious steps and all the while maintaining a military attention to any eventual noises. It was silent out there, and eventually they met up outside the door to the room, confident that Hisaki was not in a position to make any opposing moves at the moment. That reflection, Hisaki thought, was accurate.

Hisaki rolled over, and gently repositioned himself so that he could see better out the open door. One of them was descending the stairs, while the other stood guard at the top. Now Hisaki could see only the one at the top, who soon followed his colleague. Hisaki listened intently. The silence was deafening. He could hear his own heartbeat, and the wind caressing the trees outside the large bedroom window, but as the seconds lapsed from downstairs was only silence, a sinister, penetrating silence that crawled into orifices were it was not wanted. He squeezed his arsecheeks to feel more comfortable, but it did little to normalise the tenderness.

From downstairs came suddenly and unexpectedly noises. The sound of glass or plates breaking, and a voice cried out something like a pitiful screech.

The voice of the mayor he heard, and Hisaki’s felt a glimmer of hope return to his grim imagination, for the speaking that was done seemed to be admonishing someone or others—presumably the interlopers. Then came hurried steps up the stair, and almost flying into the room, came Setsuna.

“You’re all right!” he exclaimed and threw his arms around Hisaki affectionately. “Did they hurt you?”

Hisaki nodded and said, “But they hurt you, too.”

“Yeah, sure, but who cares about that—I’m used to it.”

Hisaki felt saddened, and returned the embrace. They hugged, their noses one against the other, gloved finger’s interlocked; lips to lips, they kissed.

Resolute steps came up the stairs, and the Mayor came into view with a wry smile. “Good to see you are fine,” he said. “I managed to tie them up and put them into the cupboard downstairs; arms and legs are restrained. If you want to do something to them, you can go ahead.” He gritted his teeth. “Meanwhile, I think I have to make a call to a certain _someone_.”

The Creator, naturally, Hisaki thought. In the immediate, however, Hisaki and Setsuna made their way down to the large closet, located in a small library accessed from the living room. On the far short-wall was the door. Inside, the mayor had tied the two captives up; white rope tied their arms behind their backs, and their legs were likewise tied together. They looked a bit nonplussed by their position, their eyes moving from each other, to Hisaki and Setsuna, and towards the ceiling, desperately vying, perhaps, for an escape route of their own.

Hisaki took one of them, and pulled him harshly out; Setsuna took the other. In the library was a black leather sofa, whereon Hisaki pushed his victim down.

“You’re not so tough, now,” he said, while he touched himself stiff. The sun beamed in through the window, across the garden outside. His other hand pulled down the shorts to reveal the fatty buttocks, whose skin was smooth and white as silk. He slapped it, gently at first, then harder. Then he proceeded to force himself in. Looking to his right, towards the window, Setsuna was doing something similar; his victim grimacing and looking generally uncomfortable.

Hisaki slapped the buttocks again, harsher, and began to speed up his thrusts. The would-be-assassins moaned and cried despite their best efforts to remain quiet as they were roughly violated, and when Setsuna and Hisaki finally deposited their luscious loads within their bowels, their eyes were filled with doubt at the Creator’s inviolable holiness and intelligence, his god-like powers and control of all matters.

Hisaki and Setsuna berated them for believing such things, and thereafter left them once again locked up in the closet, where they would be left to marinate in the growing awareness of having been led astray and their minds filled with inexcusable, idiotic lies and poison.

They met the Mayor outside of the closet.

”Ah, there you are,” he said. “I was looking for you. The call to alert the Creator came from inside the house. It was Hikari who did it—what folly!—and now he’s hiding somewhere in the house, no doubt aware of his circumstance. He must have been jealous of my attentions diverted, but to think he would stoop this low. I am quite shocked. He ought have realised that if they brought you back, he would be taken back too. He came from there, though he did not escape it directly, but deviated from a delivery mission because I caught sight of him and offered him a place to stay. If I know him well, he’s hiding either in the basement or the garden tool shed—that’s where he went during certain past indiscretions that, compared to this, pale in comparison.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “Let’s go check out the shed first.” The mayor led the way, and Hisaki and Setsuna followed.

It stood at the far end of the garden, up against a tall fuzzy green hedge of evergreen thuja; with white-painted wooden walls and a sloping roof on which was stapled a roofing felt. The mayor’s step across the grass were determined and intimidating. A sudden gust of wind blew the shabby weathered plank door open. The light hit a multitude of stored items and garden tools and hoses rolled up like snakes strangling prey; a rusty garden shears silhouetted against a giant spider’s web to which clung the dust of years’ worth of neglect.

Hikari was in there. He was crying, leaned against an open bag of fertiliser, trying to make himself disappear into the shadows; but with the door open he was readily visible. In a rush he had attempted to use a wooden board to hide behind, but it barely hid his head. He noticed the light filter in through the opened door, and turned to the three shapes at the door; the mayor filling the frame, and Setsuna and Hisaki on either side.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Hikari cried desperately. His make-up had flowed down his cheeks, leaving meandering river-like traces that made Hisaki think of dried blood, and remember with revulsion the many ‘sites of accidents’ he had cleaned in the wake of the Creator’s hideous misdeeds. Hikari’s weeping seems unending and his ears drooped off to the side in desperate submission. “Master, I’m sorry! I.. I, I didn’t know what to do... I didn’t mean to... I’m sorry, please... please forgive me!”

“Did you really think the Creator would just take these two? Do you really imagine he would not take you too? He’d take you all, take you back to that place. You don’t want that, surely? Who knows what he would do to you!”

“No.. No... I didn’t want to go back there... he said he would let me stay... maybe... you would give me more attention if he took those two interlopers back... I’ve felt so neglected...”

“He said you could stay? And you believed him?”

Hikari stood up on shaky legs and looked at the mayor. “N—Not exactly, but... what else... it was all I could think of... I’m sorry... are you going to send me back?”

“Of course not,” the mayor said, “come here, let’s go back inside.” The overcast sky seemed ominously bloated with promises of rain and misery, and the chilly winds made staying outside uncomfortable.

Hikari got on his feet and with unsteady and shaken legs walked over to the Mayor, who took his hand and with unexpected grace picked the catboy up with one sweeping motion, and carried him as one stereotypical depiction of a damsel in peril saved by some masturbatory dream-image of a strong, resolute man; and in this way he carried Hikari all the way to the back entrance and back inside. Hisaki went in last and closed the door behind them just as a light drizzle came down from the grim wallowing vapours.

The Mayor slumped down on the sofa, and laid Hikari down across his legs. A large hand groped and flipped the pink vinyl skirt up, exposing the soft pink flesh of the voluptuous buttocks, apologised in advance, and then slapped it harshly. Hikari took his punishment in good humour, though he grimaced as the hand made impact and left red palm marks on the arsecheeks.

Setsuna and Hisaki walked up the stairs as the Mayor and Hikari began to kiss, quietly sneaking so as to not disturb, and entered the main bedroom. Hisaki closed the door softly behind him, hearing as he did the sensuous moans emanating from downstairs.

III

Hisaki peered out of the second storey window. The door of the garden shed still stood open, moved by the wind as the rain picked up and the skies seemed at once even greyer and grimmer. Hisaki lit the lamp on the bedside table.

Setsuna laid down on the bed and stretched his arms out and yawned.

Hisaki banished the silence between them that felt eerie due to the drops of rain now cast against the window glass by the wind. “What are we going to do about the Creator?”

A question easily posed, yet not easily answered. “He relies on the Mayor for outside trade, but it would be foolish to simply cut him off. He has resources to fight it. Think of those crocodiles and things he has up there. He could attack this town and destroy it completely if he wished.”

Setsuna nodded. “He only doesn’t, because that would bring attention to this weird enterprise. It would be counter-productive to force him into a corner where that is his best option. We need to take him out—stealthily.”

“That seems difficult,” Hisaki said and sat down on the bed.

“Definitely.” Setsuna rolled onto his side and put his hands around Hisaki’s arms and pulled him back onto the bed. “So let’s not worry about that right this moment, we’ll have plenty time for worrying and contemplating the next steps later. Come here, suck me, instead.” Setsuna pulled his erection out from the crotch of his outfit. “See, it’s hard for you!” He smiled. “It’s your duty to take care of it. _You made me this way_.”

Hisaki assumed a more comfortable position and leaned down. Setsuna had pulled the foreskin back and exposed the glans, twitching pleasantly as Hisaki’s lips grazed it like a comet too close to the sun. As their acts progressed, he found himself surprisingly apt at ignoring the context of the horrors that had transpired previously. His lips licked, his mouth sucked, his fingers caressed, his hands fondled; warmth, sweat, wetness and throughout everything an electric charge rushing forth. Setsuna rolled onto his back, and Hisaki cradled him; Hisaki’s fingers over the erection as he guided it towards his always ready-hole.

Setsuna’s hands were warm on his hips as they fucked; and outside, some insects feebly made a noise in the dark bushes, trying as they were to likewise find a mate. In the compound on the hill, the Creator made sinister, unholy plans that they knew nothing of, but suspected just the same. They would have to do something to stop his ravages, they knew very well, but for now they fucked, they kissed, they cuddled, and then they slept. Plans had to be made, but that was for another day.

Though, even as he fell asleep then and there that night, Hisaki’s mind was full of one thought alone: the Creator must die. Only then could they really sleep soundly. Only then they could dream, and wonder, and learn; only then, when that monster of a man was no more. Only then.


End file.
